


Minutes at the Musain

by vivalamusaine



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Background Les Amis de l'ABC, Café Musain, Conversations, Dialogue Heavy, Freeform, Friendship, Gen, Les Amis de l'ABC - Freeform, Les Mis Rare Pairs Week, Modern Era, No Plot/Plotless, Platonic Relationships, Pointless conversations, Talking, anti cop, bahorel and enjolras friendship fic, discussion of alternative universe, mentions of clone sex, talking about nothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:21:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26161822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivalamusaine/pseuds/vivalamusaine
Summary: Bahorel and Enjolras are the only ones to show one night for Les Amis De L’ABC. In lieu of a meeting, they share stories of their friends, talk of old memories, discuss theoretical punches to the face and create fraudulent meeting minutes.No plot, basically just a fun conversation between two friends about nothing of importance.
Relationships: Bahorel & Enjolras (Les Misérables)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 20





	Minutes at the Musain

**Author's Note:**

> For Les Mis Rare Pairs week 2020 - August 26: Friendship! (I am 2 days late!!!!)
> 
> This fic is just short + fun, dialogue focused and without a plot. Just Bahorel and Enjolras talking about their friends together and nothing else!
> 
> Content warnings: None really, unless you're freaked out by theoretical clone sex discussions or cop hate. Small joke about death but nothing heavy.
> 
> Enjolras and Bahorel's friendship needs more love.

Hurrying into the Musain, Enjolras was expecting to be met with a boisterous crowd of tired and overworked friends ready to greet him,  but opening the door to the back room he was met with an almost empty room. Only one person was seated at the table across from him. Bahorel looked up from his phone and gave him a small wave.

“Are we early…. or late? or is everybody else late?” Enjolras asked with one more confused look around the room. The chaos and stress of exam season always had Enjolras slightly turned around and stressed for time, but usually les amis de l'abc was the exception to his frantic schedule. In the four years since he’d formed it he hadn’t once missed a meeting, and had only been late a handful of occasions that were completely out of his control. 

“None of the above!” Bahorel said with a grin and gestured for a bewildered Enjolras to sit in the free seat across from him, he did so with a curious tilt of his head, waiting for explanation. “Have you checked the group chat? It’s just me tonight. ”

“My phones dead,” Enjolras frowned as he placed his messenger bag on the empty chair beside him, another frightful side effect of his busy schedule was that he occasionally forgot to charge it overnight. “All I know is Joly and Combeferre won’t be here. I still can’t believe they’re actually interning at a real hospitals now.”

It felt like just yesterday he’d met them at an orientation party in their first year of university. Fresh faced and bold and excited for the future. They had all felt so mature and invincible then, but they had been practically children. 

“Ah, they grow up so fast,” Bahorel replied wistfully, pretending to wipe a tear from his eye. “Well, I have the full litany of pathetic excuses in the chat, let me enlighten you.” He held up his phone and cleared his throat loudly. 

“Jehan has come down with a touch of melancholy, can’t bring themselves to leave the bed. Feuilly just came back from a double shift and can’t function like a normal human today  — his words, he sends his deepest apologies, Bossuet is desperately trying to cram last minute for his final tomorrow, Eponine is working and took Gavroche with her, Musichetta’s got plans, Grantaire’s dead, Courf is-”

“Dead?” Enjolras interrupted with a horrified expression. 

“Yeah, from last night. We went a bit overboard celebrating his guest spot in the gallery. All his pieces sold and all the champagne was free,” Bahorel grinned. “I tried to wake him up three times before I left but he wasn’t having it.”

“Oh,” Enjolras said with a relieved smile. “What were you saying about Courfeyrac?”

“Helping a friend  _ outside  _ of our group move apartments. Can you believe it? The traitor!”

“And let me guess, Marius and Cosette are on a date?” Enjolras said with an amused roll of his eyes. His annoyance was more for show than anything, he didn’t actually mind all that much that they’d missed the last three meetings to run off on some spontaneous romantic adventure together, he was happy for them. It was just becoming a little predictable. 

“Yeah, but they have to be forgiven this time,” Bahorel said with a knowing smile. “It’s the most important night of their romantic life for a very important question.”

It took a while for the meaning of these words to hit him completely, but when Enjolras realized what Bahorel meant his eyes went and his mouth fell open slightly.

“Marius is proposing?”

“No actually, Cosette is. I think she realized that boy would have to trip over himself for another two years before he could even think of mustering up the courage to ask, and she’s impatient as anything to get married. I can’t tell you how unbearable it makes watching ‘Say Yes To The Dress’ with her. That’s supposed to be my relaxation show! It shouldn’t make me more stressed! Plus, she’s always talking over Monte and that should be like a federal crime or something. I can’t wait to go gown shopping for her, I’m going to be such a bitch when she tries on her dream sweetheart neckline princess ball gown. I’ll cause a big scene about how it's totally not the dress for her and I’ll guilt her into trying on an ugly poofy sleeved lace a-line.”

“No, you won’t,” Enjolras laughed fondly. “You’ll fold and cry immediately the moment she comes out in that dress.”

“Fuck, you’re right! I’m getting emotional just thinking about it.”

“Has it really been two years for them?” Enjolras placed his chin absentmindedly in his hand. “Everyone seems to be growing up.”

“Except for us, of course.” Bahorel winked. “Young, wild, and free forever! A youth unbridled by time and motivated for a fresh new world!”

“I am definitely not a youth unbridled by time,” Enjolras said with a laugh. “I blink and the year is almost over!”

  
“Well, the night is still young at least and I’m completely at your disposal. I’ll carry the whole team - minutes, tasks, errands, you name it I’m your man!”

“Oh. Um, hmm…” A sheepish look passed over Enjolras’ face. “I have a confession to make.”

“I am an excellent secret keeper,” Bahorel placed his hand over his heart and mimed zipping his lips and throwing away the key. When Enjolras raised his eyebrows at him he deflated slightly. “Okay fine, you’re right. I’m a huge gossip. But you can still tell me.”

“Well it’s not like it's a huge secret anyway. I just had three exams this week and was going to let Courfeyrac take the lead on this one. I don’t have anything prepared,” Enjolras raised his hands defensively. “To be fair, he told me he had something he wanted to table! I didn’t realize he’d be moving one for someone instead.”

“Hey, I’m not judging!” Bahorel laughed. “At least you actually showed up unlike those other slackers. Actually, you know what we should do?”

“What?” 

“Let’s tell them this was the most productive meeting we’ve had for weeks, I’ll send the minutes and really rub in their face what they’re missing out on.”

“Bahorel, that’s mean!” Enjolras said with a laugh, although he couldn’t help being secretly delighted at the idea.

“Nah, it’s well deserved!” Bahorel pulled out a slightly chewed pencil and notebook from the backpack at his side. “We have to strike while the iron is hot! They’ve all been getting much too comfortable with skipping, how dare they have actual lives outside of us? The audacity!”

“We don’t even have anything to guilt them with,” Enjolras reasoned. “I told you I don’t have anything to table.”

“Au contraire dear Enjolras, it is not about the content within the meeting but the context behind it,” Bahorel put pencil to paper with fervour and began to dictate what he was writing. “Meeting minutes, August 26th. Enjolras took attendance. Attendees: Bahorel and Enjolras. Upon hearing that 99% of his comrades did not rise to the call of his country's needs, a single tear rolled down Enjolras’ pristine cheek as he weeped for the precarious future of his dear Patria with so few people standing behind her.”

“You’ve been spending too many nights with Jehan.” Enjolras chuckled. “His prose is rubbing off on you.”

“I know, I’m shocked too,” Bahorel said fondly. “But it turns out that as a dramatic and pretentious human, I actually really like poetry smash nights. I don’t know why I resisted their call for so long.”

“Because it’s first year student poetry and it’s terrible?” Enjolras said with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh undeniably! But there’s an entertaining beauty in the unfiltered train wreck of it all. It’s like the Cats movie for the first time.” 

“I think I’ll take your word for it. Are you done guilt tripping?”

“No, I’m just getting started. Let’s see…” Bahorel tapped the rubber end of the pencil on his bottom lip. “Upon discussing the tragic failure of their cause, Enjolras disbanded the group for good, declaring liberty for none and misery for all before throwing himself out of the closest window in despair and shame!”

“No, I don’t like that,” Enjolras frowned. “It’s too dark.” 

“Right, you’re right. We’re trying to make them feel bad, not worried,” Bahorel frowned as he turned the pen over and furiously erased the sentence. “Hope is a better motivator for future attendees than killing you off, we’ll save that for the next time they bail on us.”

“How about this,” Enjolras said leaning into the table, brow furrowed in concentration. “In a fit of passion and outrage, Bahorel lifted the meeting table with a strength unheard of for a mere mortal. Tossing it into the streets, the people were inspired and rose suddenly, answering the call to action from a bygone era. Paris was filled with the furniture of all those that opposed the oppression they were facing, and the city stood on the broken remnants of an unjust system, ready to rebuild it anew.”

“Holy shit, that’s gold!” Bahorel said writing as fast as he could. “Can we throw furniture for real when we actually get organized?”

“I don’t know… That method of protest historically produces  _ very  _ mixed results.”

“Well it sounds good on paper.” Bahorel brushed the eraser shavings off of the notebook before taking a picture of the minutes with his phone. “And sent! Let the guilt flow through them!”

“That’s if they can make out your handwriting,” Enjolras said turning the paper towards him and tilting his head to read it. 

“At least it’s not as unreadable as Combeferre’s.” “Bahorel said with a dismissive wave of his hand. 

“He has an excuse, he’s going to be a doctor.” Enjolras couldn’t help the small amount of pride that shone through his words as he spoke them.

“Do you remember when he was considering dropping out of medical school for business school?” Bahorel leant back in his seat and shook his head in disapproval.

“Oh God, don’t remind me,” A sour expression came across Enjolras’ face. “I don’t think I could be friends with a business major.”

“You’re forgetting the real enemy here,  _ marketing  _ majors.”

Enjolras gasped at this, as a long forgotten memory came to him suddenly. “Remember when Courfeyrac interned at an advertising firm a year into his media degree? He lasted a day before he quit. He said one sit in on a meeting about target demographics broke him as a person.”

“I thought they fired him?” Bahorel frowned.

“Maybe,” Enjolras scrunched his eyebrows together trying to remember the details. “I know he said he ranted loudly and stormed out of there when they tried to explain to him cleaning products  _ had _ to be marketed towards women. Either way he was definitely not welcome back.”

Bahorel nodded at this as he absentmindedly chewed on the pencil in his hand. “Do you think there’s some weird, terrible alternative universe out there where Combeferre is a stock option owning CEO, Courfeyrac is some sexist hack in advertising, and I’m a corporate lawyer?”

“Yeah,” Enjolras snorted with a roll of his eyes. “And I’m a cop.”

Bahorel laughed heartily at this. “The very world would stop turning, all hope would be lost, I’d burn it all down! Evil Enjolras has won! Nobody is safe!”

“I feel physically sick thinking about it.” Enjolras said with distress as he massaged his temples.

“Oh don’t worry, we’d find some kind of wormhole to drag the real you into the bad world and face your evil clone so he can finally be defeated and balance can be restored. We’d die before we allow you to be corrupted so terribly.”

“Everyone in this group keeps bringing up the tired debate of ‘ _ would you fuck your clone _ ’” Enjolras said with an annoyed huff. “But we never talk about the more important question; ‘would you kill your evil clone’?”

“Oh big time I would,” Bahorel answered without hesitation. “Pull the trigger piglet.”

“I think I’d try to reason with mine first,” Enjolras said thoughtfully. “If I know myself and I know a part of myself is in the clone then I would hope there is always something within me that will listen to reason and ideals and hope  —  evil or not. Besides, how is evil defined? Would it just be a subset of differing ideals to my morals or is evil me causing real harm to people through my actions?”

“I don’t know man,” Bahorel shrugged. “but if there’s a world out there where I’m a cop I’m not hesitating to punch myself in the face.”

“Well yeah, of course we do that first.” Enjolras scoffed. “That goes without saying.”

Bahorel’s phone buzzed on the table with a notification from the group chat and he picked it up excitedly.

“Eponine wants to know if we’re having fun roleplaying as revolutionaries.”

“Yes,” Enjolras nodded firmly. “Yes we are.”

“We are discussing the ethics of killing evil clones as well.” Bahorel typed the words he was saying them and sent the message to the chat before placing his phone on the table. They were about five minutes into a discussion about Bahorel’s old theatre troupe when his phone buzzed next to him again. Followed by another buzz, and then another. Bahorel threw his hands up in the air with an offended noise as the notifications kept coming and he finally relented, reading through the messages.

“Oh I see how it is! So they can’t show up to a meeting but suddenly they all magically have free time to debate clone killing! Great, and now somehow they’ve turned it back around and are on the fucking a clone debate again.”

“What?” Enjolras asked with a baffled expression. “How?”

“It appears that a disturbing number of our friends are very into the idea of hate sex and think villians are sexy.” 

“Unbelievable,” Enjolras said with a huff. “You know sometimes I think we’re the only normal ones here.”

“Hey, I never said _I_ wasn’t into it too.” Bahorel said as a bold smile spread to his face.

“Bahorel!” Enjolras chided.

“What?” Bahorel said defensively. “Tell me Spike from Buffy didn’t simultaneously terrify you and turn you on as a precocious teen!”

“I always preferred Angel.” Enjolras replied indifferently. 

“Sad,” Bahorel sighed dramatically, shaking his head. “It’s always the pretty ones that have the worst taste in men. No wonder you have no interest in fucking your own clone.”

Enjolras groaned and placed his head into his hands. “How is it that even with only one person showing up we can’t have one meeting without our conversations derailing back to  _ that _ .”

“Oh that reminds me, I should add this to the meeting minutes so we can further expand on our arguments for and against next week-”

“Don’t you fucking dare.”


End file.
